Volume Ii Part 124 (2/2)

”I hid my eyes from your two eyes That they might see aright.”

”Yet think you 'twas a star that led Your feet from height to height?

It was the flame of my two eyes That drew you through the night.”

With trembling hands he threw the door, Then fell upon his knee: ”O, Vision armed and cloaked in light, Why do you honor me?”

”The Angel of your Strength am I Who was your sin,” quoth she.

”For that you slew me long ago My hands have raised you high; For that mine eyes you closed, mine eyes Are lights to lead you by; And 'tis my touch shall swing the gates Of Heaven when you die!”

Theodosia Garrison [1874-

”LOVE CAME BACK AT FALL O' DEW”

Love came back at fall o' dew, Playing his old part; But I had a word or two, That would break his heart.

”He who comes at candlelight, That should come before, Must betake him to the night From a barred door.”

This the word that made us part In the fall o' dew; This the word that brake his heart-- Yet it brake mine, too!

Lizette Woodworth Reese [1856-1935]

I SHALL NOT CARE

When I am dead and over me bright April Shakes out her rain-drenched hair, Though you should lean above me broken-hearted, I shall not care.

I shall have peace, as leafy trees are peaceful When rain bends down the bough, And I shall be more silent and cold-hearted Than you are now.

Sara Teasdale [1884-1933]

OUTGROWN

Nay, you wrong her, my friend, she's not fickle; her love she has simply outgrown: One can read the whole matter, translating her heart by the light of one's own.

Can you bear me to talk with you frankly? There is much that my heart would say; And you know we were children together, have quarreled and ”made up” in play.

And so, for the sake of old friends.h.i.+p, I venture to tell you the truth,-- As plainly, perhaps, and as bluntly, as I might in our earlier youth.

Five summers ago, when you wooed her, you stood on the selfsame plane, Face to face, heart to heart, never dreaming your souls should be parted again.

She loved you at that time entirely, in the bloom, of her life's early May; And it is not her fault, I repeat it, that she does not love you to-day.

Nature never stands still, nor souls either: they ever go up or go down; And hers has been steadily soaring--but how has it been with your own?

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